


Twin Adders

by ObsianCaetus



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 04:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsianCaetus/pseuds/ObsianCaetus
Summary: He thought he had fallen into the shadowy embrace of death, wrapped in the chains of pride and jealousy but a change of fate granted him a second chance through the one he considered his prodigy and rival.





	1. Chapter 1

_“No…”_

_That single word fell from his lips as he stared at her, lance pointed at the ground. His body was beaten, armor pierced and torn, blood trailing down into the dirt from open wounds, though none severe. Before_ him _stood this woman, with pale gray skin and fierce violet eyes, her lance leveled against him. He had been conquered._

_“No…”_

_Fear made his feet move back. She cries out something to him, but he can’t hear it, only sees her running at him, throwing her lance to the side. He doesn’t even notice his heel slipping off the edge of the cliff until momentum already has him falling backward, vision pitching up to view the sky above him._

_“I don’t want to die!”_

* * *

 

Foulques woke with a start, staring up at a wooden ceiling, not the dismal trees of the North Shroud. He found himself not at the bottom of some pit, slipping into death but on a soft bed that smelled like wood, oiled leather, and the gentle fragrance of Galago Mint. Though his body felt weak, the elezen forced himself to sit up and found he had been stripped of his armor, left in nothing but the briefs he wore under his breeches. His wounds had been treated and bandaged up; someone had cared for him but how? He was certain the fall from the cliff had killed him.

When he glanced out the nearby window, he saw it was just after dawn. This was not his home, though,  he didn’t have a home of his own but this house belonged to someone. Carefully, he got up and limped out of the small bedroom and into the main room that comprised of a kitchen, dining table, and what appeared to be a workstation.  Someone had been here recently, as a kettle was sitting on the wood-fire stove, steaming. Whoever this place belonged to, they were not here. His stomach growled when he spotted a plate of food sitting on the table and a small note. He cautiously approached and picked it up, noticing the neat handwriting.

‘Eat and rest.’

No name but Foulques guessed it belonged to whoever lived here. Hunger too much to ignore, he cautiously sat down at the table and began to scarf down the meal of sausage, toast, and fresh fruit. With his belly full, he got up and wandered around the small space. The workbench had all manner of tools and he noticed his armor sitting on the floor, partially repaired.

A noise outside drew his attention, but he didn’t see anything out the window. Foulques limped towards the door and opened it, wincing as the bright morning light assailed his eyes. The cry of a chocobo greeted him though the creature didn’t seem to notice him. Standing beside it, giving the large yellow bird a bath, was another person. When they straightened he could see it was a woman, dressed in a simple hempen tunic and leather breeches. The chocobo spotted him and cocked its head to the side, fluttering its feathers.

“Calm down Tempest. I can’t give you a proper bath if you keep squirming about.” The woman huffed, lifting her head to glare at the bird.

“Kweh!”

She turned and Foulques felt his heart stop. It was her! Ness’ah Fateborn, the lancer he had tested time and time again; the woman he had turned on at the cliff.

“Foulques! Llymlaen’s breath, you shouldn’t be up.” She exclaimed, dropping the sponge into the bucket and hurrying to him.

Before he could protest, the red-haired woman slung his arm around her shoulder and guided him to a nearby bench to sit. He still couldn’t believe that she was here. He looked up at her, her face the same. Skin the pale gray of one born of Duskwight blood, hair a dark red that matched the shade of spilled blood and her violet eyes, accented by the deep purple vine tattoos on her face. Her dark lips curved into a gentle smile.

“How are you feeling? Did you eat?” She asked, kneeling down on one knee so she was eye-level with him.

“Y-yes. What… why am I here?” He asked, confused.

“You were pretty badly hurt after what happened at Alder Springs. You nearly tumbled off the cliff, but I managed to catch you.” Ness’ah replied, checking his bandages.

“You… saved me? But why?! I did not need saving!” He spat at her, wincing as the effort made pain lace through his chest.

“I believed you did. You are a good man who’s lost his path. An adventurer does what they must for those that need help.” She replied, straightening up. “Your bandages need changing. Let’s get you back inside.”

Despite his protests, Ness’ah helped him up and back into the house, having him sit on her bed as she fetched fresh bandages and a jar of salve. He tensed when she approached with a knife.

“I have to cut the bandages free.” She said, kneeling down next to him again.

“You cut me and I will not be happy.” He grumbled sourly, averting his gaze.

Ness’ah, cautiously, cut the bandages free from him, starting with the wrapping around his chest. The swollen bruising had gone down and the stitches holding the gash closed were still intact. His wounds were looking much better. Most of the minor injuries were nearly healed but he had taken some severe cuts during their fight across his chest and right calf. Once the injuries were cleaned and redressed, Ness’ah got to her feet and put away her supplies.

“It will probably be a full week before those cuts fully heal. I could request a white mage to come by and finish tending to your injuries.” Ness’ah offered.

“That won’t be necessary. Once I can walk comfortably, I’ll be gone.” He huffed, standing up carefully.

“Why are you so quick to leave?” She asked.

“I do not belong here and I’d rather not be around when the Wood Wailers come looking for me.” Foulques snorted in disgust.

“Master Ywain already knows you’re here. I told him about what happened at Alder Springs.” Ness’ah replied, leaving the room to put the salve jar away.

“You did WHAT?!” Foulques shouted, grunting as his chest throbbed painfully.

“I pleaded your case with him. It was unfair what happened to you back then and though it cannot be undone, you should have a second chance. Others flourished in your tragedy and that is not right.” She responded with surprise in her voice.

“And what would you know?!”

Foulques balked when her expression softened in shock, eyes glistening before her gaze turned and she looked away. He realized what he had just said was callous and cruel. Ness’ah was kin, a fellow Duskwight and raised in the same environment as he had been. Unwanted, abandoned… thought to be a criminal by birth. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up.

“I’m sorry I spoke too harshly, Fateborn. You are Duskwight as well and know of which I speak, yes?” He said to her.

“Yes, I do Foulques but I made life better for myself and it can be better for you. I was once told anything worth having in your life is paid for in sweat and blood.” She replied, giving him a weak smile.

“Sweat and blood, eh? Interesting advice.” Foulques replied thoughtfully.

“Words of a wise man I met. Just… give it a try Foulques? An honest living is a lot of work, but it’s nice. I mean, this is my home and I rather like it.” Ness’ah chuckled.

“Yes, it is… quite quaint. You are going to persist in this matter, aren’t you?” he sighed, realizing arguing was going to be pointless.

“You may continue if it would make you feel better. Once you are well enough to hold your lance, Master Ywain will come by. Concentrate on getting your strength back.” She said.

“Fine, you insufferable woman. I suppose I must endure your coddling until I get my strength back.” He sighed, giving her a smug smirk.

Ness’ah laughed and told him she’d be back at dusk, having matters with the Lancer Guild to take care of for most of the day. He was free to do as he pleased, as long as he didn’t aggravate his injuries. Once she was gone, Foulques found himself alone. He had never had a home, at least not a stable one. He had brief memories of living with a roof over his head. The place was small, with only two rooms, the main room and the bedroom. He was surprised at how neat the house was as he got up to have another look around. She didn’t have much in the way of personal items aside from her equipment.

“A strange woman… ugh, a strong one too. I suppose I should lay down. I am feeling quite tired.” He muttered to himself before heading back to bed.


	2. Path of Forgiveness

Foulques heard the chocobo’s cry upon returning, the shift of the saddle quite loud in the silence. He was glad she had returned. Nearly two weeks of being nursed and spending the days in sluggish silence had nearly driven him mad, but he endured it. He got up, setting aside the book he had been reading just as the door open, expression falling when he saw that Ness’ah was not alone. Master Ywain, leader of the Lancer’s Guild and tutor to most of the lancers that filled the ranks of the Wood Wailers and the Order of the Twin Adders. His expression was flat when he saw Foulques.

“Ywain.” The elezen grumbled sourly.

“Foulques. It’s good to see you making such a speedy recovery.” The hyur replied curtly, Ness’ah looking a bit worried.

All three of them sat at the table, lances left by the door. There was a tense silence as Foulques glared at the guild master, still remembering that day and clinging to the rage it had instilled in him. Ywain was calm while Ness’ah poured everyone tea.

“Fateborn told me what happened in the North Shroud. You were a good student when you were with the guild, but you were led astray. I… admit the handling of your case by the Wood Wailers was unfair. I am willing to give you the opportunity to rejoin the guild.” He explained to Foulques, Ness’ah quietly sipping her cup of tea.

“And why would I want to rejoin your pathetic Lancer’s Guild? You have nothing to offer.” He grumbled.

“Foulques…” Ness’ah sighed, but Ywain stopped her.

“You are strong but rash and vain. When you faced the boar, you panicked and lost your composure. Strength is not just how well you can swing your lance in the face of great danger. There is more to our craft than violence.” Ywain lectured. “I am merely providing you the opportunity. Ness’ah here is willing to put her reputation on the line and be your mentor in the guild.” He continued to explain.

“You would be my mentor?” Foulques asked, attention focused on Ness’ah.

“I would be if you choose to rejoin the Lancer’s Guild.” She replied, taking another sip of tea.

“What could you teach me, girl?” He challenged.

“The things you lack. I did best every one of your challenges and yourself. I believe that would make me your superior.” She replied with a smug smile.

“Hmm… I suppose it would. I must think on the matter for the time being. I am not entirely convinced.” He replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his seat.

“I shall reserve my judgment for when you have your answer, Foulques. I hope you do not wait too long to give your response. Have a good evening.” Ywain replied, getting up and thanking Ness’ah for the tea before leaving.

There was an awkward silence as they listened to Ywain’s chocobo leave, Tempest kwehing in goodbye. Foulques looked at Ness’ah, brow raised as she drank her tea quietly until her cup was empty. She got to her feet and approached her work bench, lifting the leather cuirass she had been working on.

“I finished fixing your armor. You should try it on, make sure it still fits.” She said, setting it on the table.

“You seem rather keen on helping me, Fateborn. Why?” Foulques asked.

“The Echo showed me things about you when we first met, what happened at the Lancer’s Guild specifically. You wanted to do what was right but the men you trusted turned on you. It was disgraceful.” Ness’ah replied, scowling.

“I am used to such treachery. I have always been looked down upon and always shall be. However, I am not in the mood for this discussion. I… should thank you for what you’ve done for me. Your persistent mothering seems to have permitted my wounds to heal faster than expected.” He said, shifting the topic of the conversation as he looked over the cuirass.

“Suitable amounts of bed-rest do wonders. Do you still intend to leave?” She asked him curiously.

“I’ve thought about it, but I don’t have my strength back completely… plus, Ywain’s proposal is tempting but do you truly have anything to teach me, woman?” He retorted with a smirk.

“It would depend on what you wish to learn, Foulques, but I could always give you another thrashing if you need reminding of my skill.” She taunted back, dark lips curled in a smile.

Though such taunts usually fueled his anger and pride, with her, it was a bit different. He felt comforted, an odd feeling he was not used to. However, to think this whelp was better than him ruffled him a bit. She had bested him in Alder Springs, but he had not been himself. He scowled at that thought and looked at her again, his stern expression making the smile fall from her lips.

“What?”

“I want a rematch.” He replied directly.

“I thought you said you didn’t have your strength back?” Ness’ah asked, smiling.

“Do you accept my challenge or not?”

Ness’ah chuckled and headed outside. The light of dusk was filtering through the trees, long shadows cast across the house and the small clearing it was in. He took another look at the abode while Ness’ah fetched a couple of lance shafts she had fashioned to use for their duel. A home… he never understood why that word was so important to most, but he could see the appeal. Ness’ah seemed to live away from Gridania, a distance from the bustle of the city but not too far. His attention focused back on her when she whistled before tossing him one of the poles. He noted they were carved from elm.

“These are well-made. Hopefully, the merchant didn’t dip too deep into your pockets.” He commented, testing the balance and weight by giving a few practice swings.

“Thankfully, I didn’t have to spend much gil, considering I crafted these myself.” She replied with a smug smile, already holding her pole as if it were her lance.

“Skilled in many things I see. Hmm, how shall we determine a winner?”

“Well… it probably would not do either of us any good if we beat each other blue and bloody. In the guild, Master Ywain uses a point system. A hit equals a point and whoever reaches five points first is the victor.” Ness’ah explained.

“Fair enough. Shall we begin?”

Foulques smirked as he rushed at her, swiping at her legs. Ness’ah danced back a couple of steps and retaliated. Keeping her momentum, she stepped to the side and swung at his extended arms before he could recover. The man hissed at the sting of the blow to his upper left arm and took a few steps back, wincing.

“One point for me.” Ness’ah said triumphantly.

He scowled, shrugging off the stinging pain in his arm and they clashed again. Though he didn’t have all of his strength back, he held his own but after two minutes of intense dueling, Foulques was out of breath and sporting bruises in five different spots on his body… mostly on his arms. He couldn’t hold the pole up any longer, but he was glad Ness’ah was too winded to be smug about her victory. He tossed aside the pole and ran his fingers through sweat-slicked bangs to get them out of his eyes.

“In my defense, I don’t have all my strength back.” He snorted.

“Sure Foulques. You only hit me once. Come, it’s late and I am quite hungry. I’ll start dinner.”

After they had eaten a meal of roasted dodo and vegetables, Foulques felt fatigued. It was dark outside and the aches in his body told him he’d sport bruises for the next week. Ness’ah was cleaning the dishes when he realized they had a small problem; his sleeping arrangements. While he had been recovering, he had slept in her room. Now he was, mostly, heled and though he didn’t like the thought of sleeping on the floor, the smooth, polished wood looked more comfortable than sleeping on rocks and tree roots.

“Fateborn, do have a spare blanket?” He asked after peeking into one of the cupboards.

“I do but why?” She asked.

“To sleep of course. I obviously don’t require the comforts of your bed anymore now that my wounds are healed… mostly.” He replied.

“You are a guest in my home. I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor, Foulques.” Ness’ah said, seemingly surprised by his suggestion.

“I’m not taking your bed.” He protested.

“You are a guest here. Use the bed. I am comfortable with my sleeping arrangements.” She retorted, drying the last dish and putting it on the rack by the window. She pulled off her leathers, leaving her in the sweat-stained cotton tunic and breeches she wore underneath.

“Wait, where are you going?” Foulques asked in confusion, seeing her opening the front door.

“To give Tempest a brush down. I’ll see you in the morning.” The elezen woman replied before closing the door behind her.

Foulques rolled his eyes and sighed before dressing down to his breeches though he suddenly didn’t feel like sleeping. When he looked at her bed, he wasn’t comfortable with using what, rightfully, belonged to Ness’ah. He paced about and wandered around the interior of the small abode before he got fed up and decided to check up on her. The chocobo had quieted down about ten minutes ago. The night air was cold, fireflies floating about. He wondered where Fateborn had wandered off to and walked to the small stable attached. He was surprised by what he saw; Ness’ah curled up with the chocobo, one of its wings over her like a blanket. The creature stirred, sleepy eyes blinking open as it lifted its head to look at him.

“She shouldn’t have to sleep out here.” He grumbled, stepping under the awning with intentions to wake her.

“Kwe-eh!” The chocobo chirped softly, shaking its head before lying back down again, tightening its wing around her.

He scowled but when he looked at her face, he saw how comfortable she looked, corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile. Did she like sleeping with her chocobo? What an odd thing to find comforting. He watched for a few more moments before letting out an agitated sigh.

“I don’t understand her at all. I should sleep… at least there will be breakfast in the morning.” Foulques grumbled before heading back inside.


	3. The Heart is a Fickle Thing

Standing in the Lancer’s Guildhall once more left a bitter-sweet feeling in Foulques. This had once been a place of his youthful dreams, but now it was tainted by the betrayal and shame he had suffered at the hands of those he thought were his friends and allies. Even now, people were gawking at him as he stood there next to Ness’ah, Ywain lecturing some new recruits.

“I knew coming here was a bad idea.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Ignore them, Foulques. People will whisper and gossip to their hearts content… it means little.” She told him in response, her voice low so only he could hear.

“Easy for you to say.”

Once Ywain finished his lecture, his more advanced students took the floor to demonstrate their skills and forms. Foulques found himself staying near Ness’ah during their sparring matches. He had to admit, many of the students were skilled but not as good as her. As they were finishing up, a couple of Wood Wailers walked in, one in which he recognized. A hyur named Talon, with dusky skin and dark hair. He had grown a beard since he last saw him, but that glint in his dark red eyes was unmistakable. He scowled at him as he approached.

“I heard you let this rabble back in, Master Ywain. Are you certain you do not wish us to arrest him?” Talon asked loudly, ensuring everyone in the guild hall heard.

“No Talon. Foulques is a student of the guild once more. Past transgressions have been forgiven. Now, what brings you here today?” Ywain responded, shrugging off the

“A missive arrived from the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, meant for Ness’ah Fateborn of the Gridania Lancer Guild. I was asked, personally, to deliver it to her.” Talon replied, searching around the guild hall for her.

“That would be me, sir.” She replied, stepping forward.

Foulques’s scowl deepened when Talon turned to her, a perverse smirk on his face as he handed her the letter. Talon had a prejudice against Elezen in general, more so against Duskwights, but he was also a serious womanizer and regardless of such views, he never ignored the opportunity to flirt.

“Ah, Ywain’s prodigy. You’ve been the talk of Gridania since you took care of that demon. Must be something truly special if the Scions are calling upon you.” He mused.

“I serve to protect Eorzea from the threat of the Empire and the Primals. I do not think myself unique for the skills Ywain has taught me.” She replied, bowing her head with respect as she took the letter.

Talon left with his escort and it was back to business as usual. However, Ness’ah just tucked the letter away. Foulques asked her about it, but she said she would read it when they were finished and returned home. Sparring and lessons went on for several hours and Foulques out-performed most of the other students. Ywain seemed quite pleased with his progress and drew him aside before they left.

“Foulques… I do wish to apologize for what happened all those years ago. I should have done better to discover the truth of the matter.”

“But you didn’t. Your apology means nothing to me, Ywain. However, dredging up past mistakes helps neither of us. What happened, happened. Perhaps, with this new start, things can be different.” Foulques retorted with a small scowl.

“Hopefully they can be. You hold much promise Foulques and, perhaps, you can best Ness’ah in combat one day.” He replied, Foulques unsure if that was a compliment or an underhanded insult.

“I plan to be.”

The rest of the day went without further incident and Ness’ah and Foulques returned to the small hut on the edge of the woods as dusk started to settle. They both slid off Tempest, Foulques rubbing his sore backside as the saddle wasn’t meant for two people. The chocobo chirped happily as she got the saddle off him and led him over to his feeding trough.

“Are you going to read that letter?” He asked, remembering the event.

“After dinner. Would you mind filling that bucket with water for me? Tempest needs a bath.” The elezen woman asked, her tone gentle.

Foulques turned and grabbed the wooden bucket by the corner of the house before taking it to the water pump and filling it. When he looked up, his jaw nearly fell off his face. Ness’ah was bent over as she was pulling her greaves off, her leather cuirass already off and set aside. She was left dressed in her breeches and the short tank top she wore underneath her armor. Her gray skin was marked with faded scarring, mostly on her back and upper arms. He wondered how many were from her training. His breeches suddenly felt a bit tighter.

“Are you alright Foulques?” She asked, having turned to see what was taking him so long.

He flushed and slopped some of the water on his leg as he hurried over and dropped the bucket next to her. She was well toned, but that was expected of a lancer. At her request, he fetched the soap and sponge so she could start giving her chocobo his bath. The bird cooed and stood patiently as she scrubbed him down carefully, humming to herself. He thought to offer to help, but he merely watched. She finished by the time the sun got really low, dumping the bucket out in the bushes. Foulques followed her inside, Ness’ah pulling on a tunic before heading into the kitchen to start fixing dinner. He just sat and waited as she made a meal of roasted antelope meat and vegetables.

Halfway through the meal, Ness’ah paused and got up to fetch the letter she received earlier from her leather cuirass. She recognized the stamped seal of the Scions, wondering what they could want with her. She wasn’t an official member of their ranks just yet, but she had been in frequent contact with them in the past couple of months. She recognized the neat script of Minfilia’s handwriting. She read through the letter, a frown coming to her face.

“Is something wrong?” Foulques asked when he noticed.

“The Scions are requesting my assistance in helping with amalj’aa around Camp Drybone. They’ve been attacking supply lines with more frequency.” She replied, folding the letter and setting it down.

“Why are they asking you?”

“They are training me to understand better how they operate and the conflicts they deal with. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are a neutral faction that fights the Primals and their followers. I have to leave in the morning.” She replied, getting up and grabbing her leather backpack to start packing her belongings.

“What happened to mentoring me, huh?” He asked in jest.

“Master Ywain will handle that. You’ll be fine, I should only be gone a few weeks. I’ll likely be helping with investigating the supply line thefts. Just try to clean up your mess before I get back, ok?” She retorted, smiling faintly.

As he watched her back, Foulques felt an odd pang in his heart at the thought of her being gone for weeks. He’d be alone, in this house. He sighed and shrugged it off, getting up and gathering up the dishes to wash them. Once the table was cleared and cleaned, dishes dried and put away, Foulques headed to bed. Again, he tried to discuss with her about Ness’ah using her bed but, like before, she refuses and goes outside to sleep with Tempest. As night settled in, Foulques found he couldn’t sleep… part of his was afraid of waking up in the morning to find her gone.


	4. Quelling the Inferno

Weeks passed without word from Ness’ah, so Foulques focused on his training at the guild. As promised, Ywain took over mentoring him in the woman’s absence and he quickly excelled. He hated to admit it, but he felt much more confidence in his skills. Even the more advanced students of the guild were having trouble keeping up with him. Sweat trailed across his brow, leather creaking as he tightened the grip on the shaft of the practice lance in his hand. His opponent was favoring his left leg slightly, having endured a severe blow by Foulques. He was one-point way from winning the match, the entire guild watching. The miqo’te’s twitched to the left a second before he charged forward, telegraphing his aim. Foulques twisted out of the way, swinging low to deflect the blow as the miqo’te passed him. He struck him across the back of his shoulder with his shaft of his lance.

“Point! Foulques wins!” Ywain announced, immediately halting the match.

Foulques smirked triumphantly at the crestfallen look on his opponent’s face, but they shook hands. Before, he would have mocked him for all the mistakes he made during their bouts but he felt less inclined to make such jibes in the past month. Perhaps Ness’ah’s respectful attitude was rubbing off on him but it felt like she had been gone for months now. It’s been five weeks since she left for Ul’dah and not a single letter had come back. Not even Ywain knew what she was doing. Foulques had never heard of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn until that day she got the letter.

Training continued until dusk and then he returned to the humble home that belonged to her. He wasn’t going to claim it as his own, but he couldn’t deny that he rather liked it here. It was quiet, no one bothered him… and her scent lingered in the air. Tempest, the chocobo, greeted him with a flutter of his wings. He was still wary of the giant bird, but it was friendly and smart, helping him with some of the chores around the house.

“I suppose it’s time for dinner and a bath.” He greeted, patting it on the beak.

Tempest chirped and turned to grab the bucket and take it to the water pump while he fixed up the chocobo’s meal of gyshal greens and grains. He was still impressed by how the beast could work the water pump; Ness’ah must have taught it or the bird was just that smart. He had never been around chocobos much until now. By the time he finished filling the bird’s trough, Tempest had come back with the bucket of water, setting it near him.

“Glad she left you here. The place would probably be a mess by now… never done chores before.” Foulques commented as she fetched the soap and sponge.

“Kweh!” The chocobo replied.

He washed the bird down while it ate, exercising caution when it came to the creature’s feathers. Quick bites and the occasional firm stomp on his foot had taught Foulques not to scrub too hard and not to pluck the chocobo’s feathers. Once the bird was washed, he dumped the bucket out in the bushes and headed inside to fix himself a meal. He fried up some cuts of buffalo meat he had gotten from the market, along with some potatoes and carrots. Foulques knew how to cook but, strangely, the meal wasn’t as satisfying without that blasted woman being here.

After his meal, he laid down on her bed and stared up at the darkened ceiling. He hated to admit it, but he missed her. Her scent still lingered, embedded in the mattress and bedsheets themselves. The musky fragrance of the freshly tilled earth, oiled leather, and the accent of mint that was uniquely hers… he flinched when he felt his breeches tighten. Now was not the time for such a carnal response but he couldn’t help it; he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Three more weeks passed without word from her and even Ywain was starting to get worried. Foulques noticed the guild master looked distracted during drills and lectures, penning letters and then just tossing them aside. Foulques thought to ask but decided it was none of his business. Ness’ah was quite capable of taking care of herself. Nothing remarkable happened in those three weeks, except on the final day. Foulques returned to the house early, wanting to get a head start on cleaning out Tempest’s stable. The chocobo was wandering about, greeting him with a cry and flutter of wings. Foulques noticed a pile of familiar armor by the door and his heart jumped. Could she…

“Ness’ah?” He called when he opened the door.

The sight of bare, scarred gray skin greeted him as soon as he stepped inside, her back to him for a moment. She was dressed in that tight-fighting bra that kept her breasts in place under her armor. There was a fresh looking scar marring her side but, otherwise, she looked beautiful, if not a bit tanned. Those dark lips and the corner of her eyes turned into a warm, gentle smile as she turned to face him.

“Foulques! I didn’t think you’d be back until this evening.” Ness’ah greeted, happy to see him.

“I take it your business with the Scions is now resolved?” He asked smugly.

“For now. I hadn’t expected to fight a Primal, but the problems with the Amalj’aa are dealt with.” She told him, sitting down at the table with a cup of tea.

“You fought a Primal?!” Foulques exclaimed.

“Yes. I was with a unit of Immortal Flames when one of their own betrayed them. We were taken captive by the Amalj’aa and brought before Ifrit.”

“How did you escape?” The white-haired elezen asked, brow furrowed.

“I’m not sure myself. The Amalj’aa brought us before the Primal and it bathed us in flames but… I was spared. The rest, including the man that betrayed us, were turned to its will. Primals draw powerful from the aether and their worshippers. I didn’t win the battle unscathed… Ifrit managed to leave his mark.” Ness’ah recounted vaguely, running a hand over the pale, fresh scar on her right side.

Seeing the wound angered him. Fighting a beast that could be considered a god… that was a feat in of itself, but she could have died doing so. Foulques gritted his teeth, Ness’ah rolling her shirt back down and taking a long sip of her tea. Gone nearly two months and she comes back with the scar of a grievous injury. She should have sent at least one letter when she arrived in Thanalan. However, Foulques held his thoughts to himself, simply glad she was alive.

“Ywain will be impressed to hear of your adventures… and pleased you came back safe. I will fix dinner tonight.”

Ness’ah protested, but he wouldn’t hear any of it, gently pushing down on her shoulder to encourage her to stay in her seat. He could feel the weight of those violet eyes watching him as he cooked up sausages and roasted vegetables.  Ness’ah was, honestly, impressed that he could cook.

“I’m not a savage, Fateborn. I do know how to prepare edible meals.” He retorted with a smirk.

“I never doubted you could, but you have quite some skill. Did you tutor at the Culinary Guild in Limsa?” Ness’ah chuckled as she finished her plate.

“You learn a lot of things when you live on the move. I’m sure you know that.”

“True enough. Should have you cook more often, Foulques. You have a better flare for seasonings than I do.” She complimented.

A faint dark tint came to his cheeks and he looked away in embarrassment as she gathered up the dishes to wash them. He listened to her hum as she did the task. The lullaby was gentle but unfamiliar to him. When she was finished, the last note of the song fading. She lit the lamps as the house grew too dark, then sat back down at the table. They were both silent, having run out of things to talk about for the moment. She looked tired, likely worn out from her adventure and travel. That was when Foulques realized there was the continued problem of their sleeping arrangements. She definitely needed to sleep in her own bed.

“What are you doing?” Ness’ah asked, watching him grab a spare blanket from the closet.

“I bought a cot a few days ago and set it up next to the stable. This is your home, your bed. I no longer need to take advantage.” Foulques told her.

“No, you are a guest in my home and my bed is yours.” She stubbornly protested.

“Insufferable woman. What do you propose then, that we share the bed from now on?” He demanded in annoyance.

“Ok.”

It took a moment for her response to register in his head and when it did, his jaw went slack as he stared at her. Sharing the bed with her… why did he suggest it? The thought of lying next to her so intimately, with her scent and warmth so close, it was maddening to even think about it.

“Share the same bed, that doesn’t bother you?” Foulques asked, trying to hide the fluster in his voiced.

“Why not? My bed is large enough to accommodate us both, at least until I build an addition to the house for you to call your own.” Ness’ah offered to him.

“You are truly comfortable sharing your bed with another; a man to be more precise?” He pressed.

“Is that so unusual? We are only sharing sleeping space and… I’ve always found it more comforting than sleeping alone.” She replied.

“Do you share your bed often?” he asked defensively.

“Not in any recent time. I used to with my brother, before we found our paths. He’s a merchant who travels all over Eorzea now.” She told him with a fond expression in her voice.

“Brother? You never mentioned you had a family.” Foulques pointed out.

Ness’ah smiled and went over to the kitchen to fix tea for them both. Foulques sat down at the table and patiently waited, now curious to learn about something so personal. Once the kettle was boiling, she poured two cups, setting them down and sliding one across the table to him before taking her own seat. She was quiet for a few moment before she started to speak.

“My mother died giving birth to me and my brother was only five at the time. We never knew who our father was but does it really matter when you’re born Duskwight? I was… abnormal I suppose; the others would avoid us or attempt picking on me in the clan we grew up in.” She sighed thoughtfully.

“You? Abnormal?”

“I am unusually tall for a woman, even as a child. I grew and matured quicker than most. That seems to intimidate people and I was often teased for it. My brother did what he could to protect me but when I turned twelve… he had an accident.” Ness’ah continued.

“Accident? Is…” Foulques asked, wondering the worse.

“No, he’s alive but he had his back broken trying to protect me. After that, I made the decision to stop being a weakling and a coward. I trained and took care of my brother, carrying him on my back and cleaning up after him. I learned to hunt, cook, sew… whatever it took for us to survive away from our clan.”

“Admirable. What made you and your brother part ways?” He continued, enraptured by the story.

“We were headed to Uldah on foot when a traveling dragoon crossed our path. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs and a few rations. He took us to the city and cared for us for a week, and then left my brother his chocobo and a bag of gold. He gave me a letter and said that, when I felt ready, to travel to Gridania and join the Lancer Guild.” She explained.

“That’s… quite unusual.”

“Yes. I never even learned his name. He said he felt the heart of a dragon in me and that, with patience and training, I would be worthy of joining the ranks of the Dragoons in Ishgard.” Ness’ah finished a thoughtful look on her face.

“You must have really impressed him,” Foulques said in response.

“Perhaps… but we are getting away from the point of the conversation. I have no issues sharing my bed with you. You are not the sort to force himself upon another, Foulques.” She said, getting up from her seat.

“What makes you so certain of that?” He replied snidely, still trying to mask the embarrassment in his voice and the flush on his face.

“You put on a tough exterior, but I know you are honorable at heart. I’ll finish cleaning, you can take a bath first.”

Foulques sighed, seeing there was no point in continuing and headed into the washroom to draw himself a warm bath. He didn’t take long, not wanting to take up all the hot water before she bathed. While she was in there, his nerves started to get the best of him. Sleeping in the same bed with her, his rival and now his crush. Oh, Foulques was quite sure he was developing feelings for her beyond someone he could hone his skills with the lance against. She was beautiful to him and the appeal of her character had a charm to it he could hardly ignore anymore since he was now living with her. Swallowing hard, he decided to keep his breeches on and laid as close to the edge of one side as he possibly could. Perhaps the distance between them would stave off temptation.

Unfortunately, that was not the case once she joined him after blowing out the lamp in the room. He was keenly aware of every shift she made to get comfortable, the cadence of her breathing slowing in the silence of the darkness until she was sound asleep. Foulques, however, found no rest. His heart was racing and he couldn’t stop thinking about how close she was. He rolled over and found himself staring at her bare back. She only wore a support bra and her underpants. Even in the low light, he could make out the stark white of the scar on her dark skin. The way it was patterned, it made him think some kind of heated blade had cut through her flesh. Being the Primal of Flames, he wasn’t that surprised if Ifrit had managed to land a blow. It was a miracle she wasn’t more hurt.

Before he even gave it a second thought, he reached his hand across and traced his fingertips over the scar. Her body was so warm as he pressed the palm of his hand to her gray flesh. She inhaled deeply but did not wake. Foulques swallowed, telling himself he should stop but he couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand away. Her skin was soft, masking the powerful muscles underneath. His touch drifted down the slender curve of her hip and along her thigh, his heart fluttering as she stirred slightly. Muscle flexing, Ness’ah turning slightly so she was leaning back towards him a little. Foulques ran his tongue over his lips, mouth feeling dry as he continued to explore her, breeches tight as he quickly found himself becoming aroused. He drank in her scent with each breath, a dense mix of her musk and soap from the bath. Her blood-colored hair was fanned out underneath her, lips parted as she slept. He could see all of her sitting up like this, hand still resting on her thigh.

“Hydaelyn preserve me… you damnable woman.” He growled, finally yanking his hand away and getting out of bed.

Foulques ran his fingers through his snow-colored hair, pacing even though he couldn’t keep his eyes off Ness’ah’s form. She trusted him to be decent, but he had molested her… he wanted to keep molesting her. Feel her heart beating in her chest, test the softness of her breasts, taste the salt on her skin… thinking about it was just making it worse but he couldn’t stop. Feeling constrained and the temptation too great, Foulques shut himself in the bathroom and stripped, plunging himself into the tub. The water was nearly ice cold but hardly did anything to cool the inferno raging through his blood. He exhaled a loud breath as he closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else aside from the woman in the next room.

He wouldn’t deny he was smitten with her. Ness’ah was a worthy adversary and rival, one he hoped to surpass someday but how did it come to this? Perhaps the kindness and patience she had shown him since the day they met had struck a chord with him. She cared for him and, perhaps, Foulques was getting attached to that. Maybe he wasn’t falling in love, just his mind playing tricks on him because, for the first time in his life, someone cared. Those soft violet eyes, a gentle smile on her darkened lips, the warmth of her skin…”

“Augh!” He groaned, realizing he was thinking about her again, making the ache in his groin only throb worse.

It was quiet as he sat there, trying to contemplate what he would do. He could simply talk to her about his feelings, try to vocalize and understand if what he felt was real. But, what if Ness’ah rejected him? Foulques wasn’t sure how he’d handle that and if so, would it put a massive strain on their friendship? He would never admit it sout loud, but the elezan enjoyed her company. This was happening much too fast for his liking and resigned himself to sit in the cold water until his body had calmed itself.


	5. Light Within

 “I have to admit; you look rather silly in that uniform.” Foulques teased smugly.

Ness’ah frowned slightly as she looked herself over again, dressed in the recruit uniform of the Twin Adder Grand Company. She couldn’t help but agree with him, especially because they had to give her an outfit meant for Roegadyn women. It needed some tailoring to fit properly on her body, a fact that amused Foulques immensely.

“It is a bit much but once I put it in the hands of an Uldah weaver, they should look less silly.” Ness’ah admits, starting to remove the clothing.

Foulques flushed lightly and made to turn but stopped himself. The elezan woman seemed quite comfortable undressing in front of him, though she only stripped down to her underclothes; never naked, to some small disappointment on his end. She carefully set the uniform on the table, folding it up to send off later. She put her normal leather armor back on once she was done. He was glad and disappointed when she was fully covered, tongue darting over his bottom lip as he thought of her… no, he needed to push those thoughts aside.

“Are you up for traveling to the East Shroud with me? I have another Scion matter to attend to.” Ness’ah offered, adjusting the fit of the straps and buckles on her cuirass.

“That’s quite a distance from here and that saddle on your chocobo is none too comfortable for two people.” Foulques retorted, obviously displeased by the idea.

“Luckily, I already attuned myself to the Aether crystal there while taking Ywain’s trials so there’s no need for an uncomfortable ride.” She assured him, fetching her small aetherite crystal.

Foulques smiled, glad to go out on an adventure with her for once. Ywain had been keeping him busy by running errands on behalf of the guild but he had never gone on an assignment or trip with Ness’ah herself. It seemed the Scions had a vested interest in her assistance with large problems in the realm and were constantly having her run about Eorzea. It seemed the task they had for her currently was closer to home for now; she didn’t have to wander far.

“What do these mysterious Scions of yours have you doing now?” Foulques asked snidely, grabbing his lance before following her outside.

“I’ve been assisting with negotiations with the local sylph tribe. There is concerns about the Primal Ramuh becoming hostile.” She explained as they walked out into the middle of the clearing.

“They sure like throwing you into severe danger, don’t they?”

“Erozea still suffers from the destruction Bahamut’s wrath wrought five years ago, as well as the Empire’s assault. I must do what I can to avert disaster. As a nation, we aren’t strong enough to hold back the Empire, let alone the Primals.” She explains to him.

The trip into sylph territory was, surprisingly, uneventful. They didn’t go far in but Foulques watched as she took readings and made observations to take back to the little sylph tribe, Yda and Papalymo. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the lalafel and hyur but Ness’ah seemed to trust them so he would not question… at least not within ear shot of them. It was late in the day when they seemed to be finished with their survey, though the results of their running around seemed to be none of his business as he waited a distance some ways. It was a nice warm day but then shadows started to crawl over the trees and they both looked up to see storm clouds rolling in. The thunder was loud but there was no rain oddly enough. The chocobo chirped nervously, wings fluttering.

“That’s odd. Never seen a storm roll in so fast…” Foulques muttered in observance, a bit perplexed.

He started when he heard Ness’ah removing her lance from the strap on her back, tightening her grip on the reins. She felt an oppressive aura fall upon the Shroud, far more powerful than any of the Primals she had faced but it was one; an Ancient Primal. Suddenly, a clap of lightning struck behind them, making the chocobo scream and leap, nearly throwing them both off. Foulques held to her tightly as she fought the beast under control, rain starting to cascade in a torrential downpour. He didn’t even hear the thundering hoofbeats, mistaking them for another clap of rolling thunder. Ness’ah shouted something and dug her heels hard into the chocobo to force it into a break neck sprint.

“What’s going on?!” He shouted, squinting as the freezing rain pelted him in the face.

“We have to get out of the Shroud! Odin is here!” She screamed, snapping the reigns urgently.

The name struck him cold to his very core and he chanced a look behind him but saw nothing in the darkness. The thundering was all around them and he desperately looked around to see who or what was chasing them. There, in the trees… he caught the flickering movement of hooved legs of a massive creature. Something was riding upon its back and his awed gaze trailed up to a crowned helm.

An explosion of dirt and splinters surrounded them. The chocobo shrieked and they were suddenly flying forward. Foulques found himself tumbling across the forest floor and heard a pained shout from Ness’ah. He was on his feet first and running to her. Her lance lay on the ground as she was on her back, cradling her right arm. A rock settled in the pit of his stomach as he saw the angle it was bent at and realized she had dislocated or broken it. The piercing shriek of Odin’s steed interrupted his thoughts as the Primal stalked into view. The chocobo lay dead, yellow feathers matted with crimson blood as a muddy puddle formed under it. He dragged her to her feet despite the slippery ground, grabbing her lance and pulling her along at an awkward jog. Slephnir howled and his hooves came thundering after them. Foulques wrapped himself around her and jumped out of the way so they wouldn’t get trampled.

Slephnir wheeled around, nostrils flaring as it tossed its great head. Odin’s massive, curved blade glinted in the overcast sunlight as they approached and Foulques found himself paralyzed in utter terror. They would be cut down, Wood Wailers finding their bones weeks later after the beasts had picked them apart. He swallowed thickly, looking down at the woman underneath him and fearing this was the last time he’d gaze into those violet eyes. She held the same inevitable fear, muscles contorted in pain from her arm. He pressed his lips against hers in a fierce kiss, entire body tense as Slephnir reared and screamed. He felt a twist in his heart as, for a brief moment, she returned the gesture with equal vigor, rising partially to press against him.

Instead, Odin and his steed stumbled back, the beast nearly falling over and staving off the Primal’s fury. Ness’ah felt warmth surrounding them and noticed the glow of light emitting from her. It felt familiar but she couldn’t place where she had felt it before. Odin glared down at them, blade slashing out at them but stopped by the sparks of light in front of them, even as trees fell in a shower of splinters and leaves. Within the blink of an eye, they both found themselves in front of Ness’ah’s shack, the day sunny and warm once more. They both got to their feet, untangled. Ness’ah didn’t even realize her arm had been healed at first, not until a small spark of light dance across her field of view before settling in her outstretched palm.

“Hydaelyn… thank you.” She murmured, awed that the mothercrystal had saved them.

“W-what just happened?” Foulques asked in confusion, amazed they had suddenly returned home.

“Hydaelyn saved us. I never thought to live through an encounter with Odin… I will have to write the Scions!” She said, only to have Foulques grab her arm to stop her.

“That… that can wait. We’re both soaked to the bone and could still catch hypothermia. This Hydaelyn of yours might have fixed your arm but we’re both still bruised and scrape. Your scions can wait.” He hissed, his manner almost possessive.

An awkward, charged air filled the shack as they both entered and started removing their soaked gear. Ness’ah hesitated and stared when Foulques was standing in just his soaked tunic and breeches, the fabric sticking to the lean, toned muscles of his torso. That moment, right before they both thought they’d die, had profoundly changed her perception of the elezan before her. Her breath caught in her chest, violet gaze sweeping over the barely concealed details of his body. She had seen him shirtless several times before but this… this was different. No… not different. Looking upon him had always caused a warm stir in her chest but now that warmth was burning hot and went the whole length of her body.

He had caught her stare too and couldn’t help but smirk, looking her straight on and enjoying how her dark skin flushed purple around her cheeks and nose. She had kissed him, he was sure of it and that bolstered his confidence to new heights. It was very difficult not to smirk as he pulled his soaked tunic up over his head. He was fairly certain she inhaled louder than usual and then completely forgot how to breathe when he saw her gawking at him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, seemingly innocent as he brushed past her to hang up the shirt.

“What?! Oh! I’m… I’m fine.” She stammered in surprise, completely embarrassed and busying herself with setting aside a change of dry clothes. “Just, uh… still a bit shocked…” was her mumbled excuse.

When Ness’ah turned back around, Foulques had already changed into a fresh pair of pants. It was equal parts relieving and disappointing to her. He noticed her fumbling around when he turned back around and tried his best not to laugh. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling arm out to inspect it.

“W-what are you doing?!” She asked in alarm.

“You broke your arm earlier but it seems this Hydaelyn of yours fixed it along with saving our lives.” He retorted, casually turn her arm over and impressed there wasn’t even a scar.

“Y-yes. Her rescue was… unexpected.” Ness’ah mumbled, pulling her arm away from him.

She gathered up her clothes and ducked into the bathroom so she couldn’t see him. She felt on edge around him now, but not in an unpleasant way. She peeled out of her soaked clothing, no longer feeling cold from the chill of Odin’s storm. No, she felt very warm, hot even. Ness’ah leaned against the door with a great sigh, thinking back on that whole incident. Feeling the yielding warmth of his mouth over hers, how he protectively stayed over her even though Odin could have, easily, killed them both if the mothercrystal hadn’t saved them. Then her mind wandered to his body, the dark color of his skin, the intensity of his gaze… how warm and strong he felt against her.

“Ness’ah, are you alright?” He called through the door, voice sounding as if in her ear and not speaking through a couple of inches of wood.

“Wha?! I-I’m fine!!” Ness’ah stammered, pushing away from it the wall and wrapping her arms around herself in modesty, even though she was still in the bathroom.

“You sounded as if you were in pain.” Foulques commented, still leaning against the door.

She wasn’t going to admit her mind had wandered and, in doing so, she had started to pleasure herself to the thought of him. The realization of the notion made her face burn and she felt a degree of shame for her actions. He was right there, in the other room and she was… Ness’ah shook her head immediately toweled herself off and pulled on fresh clothes. When she came out of the bathroom, he was still shirtless and that made her heart jump against her rib cage.

“I’m fine, just still a bit… rattled. I’m going to go check on Tempest and… uh, maybe start lunch.” She mumbled quickly before rushing past him.

Foulques say and heard the door slam shut and finally allowed himself a hearty chuckle. The next few days were going to be interesting and he was excited, for he believed he knew where this would lead in due time.


End file.
